One Day More
by Shuiro Ecstacy
Summary: Isolation has eaten at her mind, bitterly crushing her heart. Her loneliness has destroyed her sanity, built a wall between her and the world of intimacy. Deep down, she feels she can never love again. Could it really take just one man to change all that?
1. ODM: Chapter 1

**A/N**: This is probably a surprise for a lot of you. I'm sure there are many people reading this that are puzzled because they're so used to my updates being Strifentine works. Fear not, they haven't gone away forever. There's a new project I'm tempted to work on, but I don't know if it's worthy to have time spent on it just yet. That's where readers come in. I won't beg and moan, but you know what's coming. It's the only way I'll be able to know whether or not I should continue with it.

So without further delay, my first Vincent/Tifa fanfiction, _One Day More_.

* * *

It was one of the longest damn days of the year, it wasn't even here yet, and she already hated it. She was bored, she was starving, and she was lonely. It happened around every holiday. Of course, it was technically no different from any other day, but to Tifa, it was particular on holidays, or the day before them.

Tifa lay in her bed, not wanting to get out from under the warm sheets just yet. Instead, she thought to herself. Though she tried not to, she would always think about the millions of families and couples spending the day together, celebrating in their own ways. Tifa, on the other hand, had the option of watching television or doing laundry. TV sounded nice right about now.

Taking in a small breath and letting it out slowly, Tifa sat up and ran both hands through her hair, straightening it out after the night's tossing and turning. She reached to her right and pulled the string that controlled her window blinds. They lifted to the top of the window to reveal a grey atmosphere, complete with dark skies and rain. Tifa sighed. She hated being alone on rainy days. It made it all the more boring to stay inside her house.

She threw the sheets that covered her shins off and swung her legs over the side of the bed. She sat there for only a moment, adjusting to the new position and the change in light of the room. Slowly, she stood up and walked out the door, half-expecting to hear Marlene or Denzel playing downstairs. That was no more, however, and Tifa sighed sadly at the thought.

Almost a year ago, Cloud had gotten a call from a childhood friend who lived practically on the other side of the world. Well, to her anyway. Of course, Cloud wanted to see this friend as soon as possible, and Tifa hadn't protested, but she had been reluctant.

Only weeks after Cloud's departure, Barret had invited Marlene and Denzel to come stay with him again. He claimed to miss them, and they had been rather excited about visiting. Tifa had agreed, but she was still hesitant about letting go of her only company. Still, a bar wasn't much of a great place for two young children, especially when Tifa had to work.

So now, of course, Tifa was alone. _Rather ironic_, she thought. _Only a year ago, I would have been eating some grand feast or whatever with my closest friends. Now they're with everyone else, and I'm here by myself._

Food. It made her stomach growl at the thought of it, and Tifa groaned. She didn't want to, but she gripped the refrigerator's handle as she approached it, and pulled. To no surprise, there wasn't much in there other than lunchmeat, a few containers of yogurt and two bottles of water. Tifa sighed. Hey, it was going to be a big holiday; why not eat to the day's expectations?

* * *

Christmas meant all sorts of food, right? It didn't matter which ones she got. Still, Tifa was beleaguered by the variety of food she could possibly get. She hadn't been to the store in quite a while, since she no longer found the need to cook; all she'd eaten for the past several months was takeout and quick snacks.

Grabbing a basket, Tifa scowled at what she now believed was a necessary chore. She felt like blaming something for it, and soon decided that the basket she carried was at fault.

She entered the first aisle to her right, looking around. Canned food. _Okay_, she thought as she inspected a can of beans. _This looks like a good start_.

She swiftly threw a few cans of food into her basket as she walked down the aisle, and finally came to the end of it. She examined her basket. It _was_ a good start. She already had five different types of available foods for tonight.

She turned to her left to enter the next aisle when she felt a sharp pang on her stomach and felt her basket hit something. The force knocked her down violently, and the basket flew from her arm, the cans rolling out of it. She squinted her eyes, then opened them again, holding herself up on her elbows. She lifted her head to see none other than Vincent Valentine standing in front of her, holding his hand out to her. She subconsciously took it and stood again, believing she was seeing stars. He watched silently as she came to all senses and scrambled to pick up her cans of food. When she had them all again, she felt rather foolish for rushing to get them, and what's more, for running into him. She looked behind him to see a cart loaded with three times the amount of food Tifa had. She figured he must be planning to eat heavily for the day as well, and inwardly giggled at the thought. Vincent continued to look at her.

"Are you all right?" Tifa shivered. She hadn't heard his voice in two years, seeing as how they hadn't seen each other that long. It was the same deep, monotone voice he'd always held. Secretly, she'd always loved the sound of it. It was chilling, but so relaxing after listening to it for a while.

Nodding, she shrugged. "It didn't hurt much. It surprised me, that's all." She gave him a good overlook. He hadn't changed much, but then again, how much could you change in two years? His lovely, ebony hair was about an inch longer, but that was it. He wore his black pants – the material she couldn't identify – along with a black shirt, tucked in tightly. He was minus his cape and headband, which, Tifa thought, made him look better; it showed his muscular figure and more of his skin. He still, Tifa noticed carried his valuable weapon in its rightful place. She smiled. "You look the same as you did two years ago, Vince." She paused, searching in her mind for something casual to say. "How have you been?"

Vincent placed a hand behind him on the edge of his cart. "Well." His eyes met hers. "Yourself?" Tifa nodded, but stopped. She could say 'fine', but why lie? And besides, if they were to continue this conversation, he would eventually ask about Cloud and the children. Why not just tell the truth? But wouldn't it bother him to spill out all of her feelings about it after so long? That didn't seem quite right, especially since they'd never been too close. She looked up, ready to give her response, but noticed he'd already started pushing his cart around the corner of the shelf she stood beside. He was headed to the aisle she'd just come from.

"Hey, wait!" Her arm lifted, her palm out towards Vincent, like it was going to make him stop. But it didn't. Tifa sighed and lowered her arm. _Well, so much for that meet up…_

* * *

When she was finally done with her shopping, she had her five canned goods, a loaf of uncut bread, and ham. It wasn't as much as she'd thought, but it would do. She headed to the first short line at a register and came around the dividing shelf to see Vincent impatiently waiting for his food to be bagged. She blushed slightly at the reappearance, and stood quietly with her basket's handles on her arm. It took him a while, but Vincent finally noticed the woman standing next to her. He gave hardly an attentive nod, but it was as much as Tifa would expect to get from the man.

Vincent was finally through, and before he pushed his cart out the door, he looked over his shoulder at Tifa for a second, as if thinking about something, then disappeared around the edge of the wall. Tifa bit her lip and waited for her food to be bagged.

Why hadn't he said anything to her? Sure, Vincent had never been one for deep conversation, but that shouldn't have stopped him from giving so much as a simple 'hello'. Then again, that probably would have made it all the more awkward… for her, anyway. She had secretly admired Vincent for only a short period of time. The first day they had met, she couldn't remember, but she knew it was long ago, and she had found him to be surprisingly attractive, and in his own creepy, secluded way… charming.

"Forty-seven gil, miss."

Tifa didn't respond. She couldn't; she hadn't heard the cashier. He irritably cleared his throat, which still didn't get her attention. This time, he spoke louder as he said, "That'll be forty-seven gil?" Tifa blinked many times and snapped back to her actual ambiance.

"Oh, I'm sorry." She reached into her bag and pulled out the correct amount. "Here," she said quietly, dropping the money into the man's hand. He took it and put it away in the register, watching her as she collected her bags.

"Sorry again," she mumbled, and with that she walked through the door. She got three feet in front of it and stopped, feeling that she should, but not knowing why.

"Having a Christmas dinner, are we?"

Tifa smiled. That voice was so significant; she could notice it in a crowd of thousands. She turned to see Mr. Valentine, his cart filled with white bags behind him. He was leaning against it, arms crossed, and she assumed he'd been waiting for her. She shifted her wait to her right, putting her right hand on her hip.

"I knew you missed me more than that. Am I right?" The corners of Vincent's lips twitched a bit, nearly forming a smile – the one Tifa had only seen once or twice – and she laughed. She walked forward and peeked into his cart. He interestedly looked over his shoulder, quirking a brow at her but never moving. She grinned.

"Are you eating alone? Or do you have something special planned? By the looks of it, you're gonna feed over twenty with all this!" Vincent shrugged.

"I decided to… stock up. I don't enjoy shopping, so I prefer to do it all at once." Tifa giggled; the thought of Vincent pushing a cart around with groceries was quite funny. He raised his eyebrow at her again, but turned this time.

"And what about yourself? You don't have much… are you sure that's enough for Cloud and the children?" Tifa's smiled faded, and she trailed her finger along the edge of her basket.

"Actually… the kids are living with Barret now. Cloud is visiting an old friend, and it's pretty far away. I've been living by myself close to a year now." She sighed, and Vincent tilted his head. He understood, though he'd become accustomed to living alone; he'd been doing it much longer. He surprised her by taking her basket from her and placing it in his cart, walking towards a deep red truck. Tifa blinked – when did he get a _truck_?

"Well then, I suppose our company shouldn't go to waste." He looked over his shoulder at her with a smirk. "My place, or yours?"

Tifa grinned. _Vincent… what a mysterious man you are._

* * *

They arrived at Tifa's house. Tifa (who had taken a cab to the store, seeing as how Cloud had taken Fenrir to get to his friend's house) had insisted that they go to her house. She didn't want him to make an extra trip just to take her home and travel back to his own place.

She was still staggered that he'd invited her to eat with him, much less spend time together. They never really had any type of relationship. It was more of an acquaintance, but maybe he was lonelier than he showed to be.

Tifa tried to take some of the groceries inside, but Vincent refused and told her to go ahead. She was shocked at how much of a gentleman he was, but once again told herself that she didn't know him well enough to assume and went inside, waiting for him.

Once they'd gotten her food put away, they worked together to get their meal ready. They didn't exactly know what they were doing, and that didn't mean the food. They were both a bit uncomfortable about the sudden surprise of seeing each other, and in a market to boot! And now they were cooking together on Christmas Eve?

They had most of the food prepared; now they had to wait for the ham Tifa had bought. They went into Tifa's living room and sat on the couch, waiting impatiently. They both silently wanted to eat and get it over with, now that all this had started. But at the same time, they were enjoying each other's company all too well, and didn't want to leave the other's presence.

Tifa tapped her fingers on her opposite arm, and Vincent shifted uncomfortably at the awkward silence that surrounded them. Tifa hesitantly reached for the remote and turned on the TV, but after two seconds of seeing an alligator munching on a gazelle, she immediately and hurriedly turned it back off, sitting back in her seat with wide eyes. It had happened so fast, and Tifa's glance found itself inching towards Vincent. He felt it and looked to his left to meet her eyes. They looked at each other for a moment, and Tifa burst into laughter. Vincent even managed to give a small smile.

Tifa controlled her laughter and sighed to calm herself. She looked at her lap, playing with her fingers. Vincent stared at the wall in front of him.

"How long did you say you've been by yourself?" Tifa jumped.

"Oh, um, I dunno… around a year maybe?" She blinked. "Why?" Vincent shrugged.

"The same reason I'd ask why your walls are white." He angled his head so that he could look at her. "You're not much of a talker, are you Tifa?" She giggled.

"Well, I am when I've known people for more than just a couple years. Besides," she added, "we don't exactly know each other that well, do we?" Vincent shook his head.

"But you know, there's only one way to do that." Tifa nodded.

"Yeah, but we haven't seen each other in so long! How are we supposed to 'catch up' in one night?" They both thought about it. Honestly, they did, but only because they had nothing else to do. Tifa's eyes brightened and she snapped her fingers.

"I've got it!" Vincent watched her curiously as she ran around the room, looking for paper and something to write with. She found two electric and water bills and a couple pens and sat back on the couch. She scribbled several things on each, and warned Vincent not to look every time he tried to. Finally, she sat back and handed Vincent both one of the papers and a pen. He blankly looked at it, reading its contents:

Favorite animal:

Favorite color:

Favorite pastime:

Favorite food:

Favorite hobby:

…etc.

Vincent smirked. He could see where this was going, but had a different idea. He took Tifa's paper from her and scratched out the lists on both papers. Tifa scowled at the action, but crossed her arms and waited for him to finish. He quickly wrote down a list of his own and handed Tifa's to her when he was done. Tifa's eyes scanned the paper, and she smiled as she read it:

T

I

F

A

L

O

C

K

H

A

R

T

Tifa laughed. He wanted her to write an acronym? Trust Vincent to be so original! She shook her head with a smile on her face and leaned forward to begin. T… T… what word described her that started with a T? She bit the tip of her pen as if she were thinking about the answer to a math problem. She gave a little "Oh!" in small excitement and wrote down her first word. Vincent blinked at the woman's enthusiastic behavior and began writing his own acronym.

Both adults were so caught up in it that they began a game of "if you can catch it, you can see it". It had started when Tifa had looked over at Vincent's paper. He mockingly snatched it away from her, giving a slight smirk. She playfully growled, making a pathetic swipe for it with her hand. Vincent, without realizing what he was doing, grabbed her wrist, put down his paper, and began to tickle Tifa. She squealed in surprise and began squirming, even though she knew she wasn't _that_ ticklish. Just the fact that she was being so affectionately played with was amusing, and it put her in the improved mood to _be_ ticklish.

Vincent, who decided Tifa had had enough, pulled his arms back. He turned so his back was almost facing her completely and continued writing his name ellipsis. Tifa grinned and did the same. _Vincent Valentine, you are full of surprises._

At last, they both completed their acronyms. They switched papers and became more relaxed; Tifa lay back so she was facing Vincent, and Vincent stretched out in the opposite corner of the couch. Vincent, mildly amused at the evening's entertainment, began to read Tifa's acronym.

T – Tough

Vincent thought this to be very true. Though they hadn't had much of a personal relationship, he'd observed Tifa to the point where he knew if you caught Tifa on a bad day, your insides would be brought out.

I – Innocent

Vincent privately smirked at this and wondered what exactly she meant by 'innocent'. Obviously, she was a virgin; Cloud had made it clear to Vincent that the two had always only been friends, and nothing more. Or did it mean Tifa had never generally shown a wayward side? Either way, he was sure he could get the answer out of her.

F – Fond

This he could believe. Tifa had always seemed to be the kind-hearted, loving girl you'd meet and immediately become friends with. She had such a knack for claiming one's attention and snatching their hearts.

A – Affectionate

Most people would think this was exactly like the term 'fond', but Vincent knew better. Though never one for demonstrative correlations, he was well aware of how women thought, only because he was smart enough to figure it out. What Tifa meant by 'affectionate' was that she was very open hearted to everyone, including friends and strangers.

L – Listener

Another reliable trait. The above suggestions of Tifa's characteristics proved this to be entirely true, and Vincent wondered how many people had come to Tifa for help just because they knew she and her heeding was so dependable.

O – Observant

Vincent assumed this meant she was unbiased, and it once again linked to her other listed traits. She was an extremely intelligent woman, and that was only possible by opening oneself to the _world_. Tifa was very capable of doing that.

C – Charismatic

Vincent had to smuggle his laughter. He had to wonder of the two possibilities of what she meant by this. Either she was very charming to all of those she met, which he knew was very true, or she was referring to the way she made friendly contact with men. _Probably both_, Vincent thought.

K – Keen

Vincent was amused that Tifa could find such a precise detail that matched the letter K. He would have had quite a lot of trouble with that…

H – Honest

He instantly took back what he had thought about her originality. But then, honesty could mean several things. It could of course mean the basic truthful trait. It could, in a way, mean she was kind of modest. The probabilities were endless.

A – Ambiguous

Vincent was again pleased by the woman's colorful vocabulary. Her intentions were probably to refer to her entire life, and figured she was still naïve about a number of things.

R – Roguish

Unsure of how to respond to this word, Vincent gave an amused 'hn' and noticed that Tifa looked up from her paper. He gave her a quick apologetic glance, then went back to his paper.

T – Tumultuous

She had made it perfectly clear that she was rather confused about events in her life. Why she would tell him this, he didn't know, other than she had been thinking about it a lot lately and it was the first thing that came to her mind. Either that, or she was very poetic and deep about her emotions.

Vincent smiled and set the paper down on his lap, lightly tossing the pen on the coffee table in front of him. He leaned back and focused his gaze on the girl to his left, who was still observing her paper. Obviously she was just as thoughtful as he was. Finally, she took notice that he was done, and blushed as she set her paper to the side.

"Sorry, I just got so interested." Vincent chuckled. Tifa blinked. She had never heard Vincent laugh before. It was surprisingly normal, as opposed to his peculiarly low voice. She loved it, and wanted to hear him do it again. Vincent leaned forward, casting a quick glance to his paper, then back at Tifa.

"I think we both did." Tifa smiled and nodded. Vincent's paper had been so… startling. Vincent really _was_ a spontaneous man.

Suddenly, a terrible smell entered the room. Vincent and Tifa squinted their eyes, as if they were looking for the cause of it. Then, Vincent's eyes lit up in realization, and after only two seconds, so did Tifa's. They leapt off the couch and ran to the kitchen, which was filled with smoky air and twice the awful odor. Vincent reached for the handle of the stove and opened it, just before Tifa cried out not to. The overwhelming rush of smoke and stench from the burning ham immediately knocked him back. Tifa growled and grabbed an oven mitt, pulling out the ham and setting it on the stove.

Tifa tossed the mitt to the side and placed her hands on her hips. Vincent crossed his arms and glared at the black, crisp meat in front of him, like he blamed it for burning. Stupid animal protein...

Tifa sighed and reached for her phone. Vincent heard the dialing of her punching numbers and turned just as she put the phone up to her ear.

"What are you doing?" he mouthed, not sure whether her receiver had picked up the phone yet or not. She smiled and mouthed back, "Ordering pizza."

It was much nicer than cooking the over complicated dinner they had planned. _Some planning_, Tifa thought. _I can't even cook a damn ham…_

They had gotten a large cheese pizza, and it was the best dinner Tifa had had in months. Every now and then, they'd bring up little subjects, like what the other had been doing during the time period they hadn't seen each other. Apparently, Vincent had been doing some wide research on other countries he planned to travel to, just for the sake of visiting and learning. Tifa had just been living life with her friends, but had grown out of it long after everyone had left. Still, she missed the general company she had been used to, and was soaking up every bit of what she could get tonight.

Tifa noticed that the smoke from the oven had taken its token on Vincent's once very pale skin. His face was now a mild shade of grey, and it wasn't completely covering it, which made it all the funnier. He looked like someone had purposely powdered smoky blotches all over his face. It made her giggle like mad. He only looked at her oddly, wondering what could be so funny.

When he finally asked what she was laughing at, she only pointed to his face and laughed harder. Irritated but slightly curious, Vincent cautiously walked over to the mirror that was on the wall in the entrance to the hallway. The look he gave to his reflection was hysterical, and Tifa fell over on the couch, unable to breath because of her laughter. Vincent raised an eyebrow and waited for her to stop.

"You wouldn't mind if I used your shower, would you?" Tifa, who was still catching her breath, looked up at him.

"Why don't you just use the si – oh okay. Go ahead." She bit her lip and smiled. "Make sure to scrub extra hard, Vince."

Vincent lifted an eyebrow at the comment and walked in the door, but smiled once he was on the other side of it.

Tifa gave a last chuckle and looked back at the acronym Vincent had created. She decided to read it over again.

V – Vivacious

Tifa, the first time she'd read it, wanted to laugh so hard at this, and now as she read it the second time, she laughed harder than she'd wanted to before. It was hilarious to think Vincent Valentine, ex-Turk and combatant gunman, was in any way _spirited_. Maybe it was just to throw her off and give her a laugh, because that's exactly what it did.

I – Intellectual

Well duh, Tifa thought. Anyone with eyes can see that. Vincent had incredible mind power, and Tifa admired it to an extremely high point.

N – Nebulous

Vincent sounded a lot like Tifa did. He was unsure about something in his life, if not more than that.

C – Convoluted

Tifa smiled. She already had this one figured out. In fact, she was sure she knew it last year when they had last seen each other. Perhaps even before that. Vincent was an incredibly complex man, which was what Tifa liked about him the most. He, unlike other men she knew, made you _think_.

E – Enigmatic

Tifa was surprised that Vincent would put such a forward statement like that. Being quite a mysterious man at first site, most people would give this as their opinion of Vincent. Maybe he'd heard it so many times that he was simply used to it. Or he was simply toying with her. Or he sucked at acronyms.

N – Nocturnal

Tifa laughed again. She had wanted to during her first read, but had contained herself for the sake of embarrassment. She was sure he was toying with her now. For gods' sake… _nocturnal_? Apparently, Mr. Valentine had a touch of humor in him.

T – Ticklish

Tifa was sure Vincent had put this just because of their little game earlier, and she found it almost endearing that he continued to put humor on his paper. This was, after all, his way of wanted to catch up after a year. She'd have to remember this statement for later.

V – Vain

This one troubled Tifa. She wondered if Vincent was upset about his life. She was very aware of Lucrecia and the somewhat of a relationship the two had had. Tifa wondered if they're division was the cause of Vincent's apparent discontent.

A – Ambitious

Well of course, Tifa thought, and she shook her head. This was definitely not one of the more surprising characteristics he had listed. She looked at the next.

L – Licentious

This had so many meanings that it confused Tifa, yet shocked her all the same. Though the definitions that Vincent might have meant were many, they were all still unexpected. Licentious could mean anything from depraved to profligate, which led on to even further possibilities. She was positive he was teasing her with these.

E – Evil

It seemed that Vincent had more than just a _touch_ of humor. Apparently, he thought he was hilarious. It made Tifa snicker just to think of Vincent pretending to be evil. She would definitely have to bring up that subject when she could.

N – Normal

Tifa wondered if this was the humor she was beginning to admire, or if he was very serious about this statement. She figured someone like Vincent would definitely want to be normal after some time, even though they know they can't be. Vincent's odd way of aging and transforming was enough to freak anybody out, and Tifa knew Vincent wasn't one to spill his feelings out to just anyone. Technically, Vincent Valentine was not normal, but Tifa was sure that this wasn't what he meant.

T – Tranquil

Tifa smiled. This was fairly obvious, but it still amused her that Vincent would write it.

I – Immoral

Tifa frowned at this. He obviously had had Lucrecia on his mind when he wrote this. He still must have blamed himself for the failure of her rescuing. He was probably hoping every second of the day for Hojo to be burning in hell.

N – Nearsighted

This one shocked Tifa entirely. Instead of a characteristic, he'd put a fact, and one that she never would have guessed in her lifetime. _So he uses a gun in combat, but he can't see anything when he uses it? What are the odds…_

E – Experienced

Vincent had obviously run out of words to use, but the term still fit him. Tifa laughed. She didn't exactly blame him; he had a much longer name than she had. Yet 'experienced' was perfect… Vincent was old enough to have done so many things people would think he'd have done.

Tifa sighed and leaned back, letting go of the paper as she did so. It swayed back and forth before it landed gently on the table in front of her. She could still hear the water running, and for some reason, she was at peace. For the first time in a year, she was calm and happy, and it was because she had company. It felt rather odd to have someone like Vincent in her home, using her shower and eating pizza with.

This, now that Tifa thought about it, surprised her even more. She'd never thought Vincent as a pizza type of person, but then again, what else was he supposed to eat?

She let her gaze drift from the floor to the bathroom door as Vincent opened it, and by God, she almost fell off the couch.

Vincent stepped out in nothing but a towel wrapped around his waist. The towel was one of her black ones, and it made his skin look all the more pale. His hair was damp, and she could tell he'd already started drying it. It fell past his shoulders and almost to his waist. Without that headband, it looked three inches longer. And, as she had expected but never thought she'd witness, he was built. _Very well_ _built_, mind you. She figured he did as much combat as he did shooting, and it paid off. Thirty years in a coffin or not, it didn't show. He looked like the twenty-seven year old man he was supposed to be.

Luckily for her, Vincent continued to adjust his towel so it wouldn't fall. Oh gods, Tifa hoped it wouldn't. Finally, he looked up at her, and their eyes met after a second. Tifa wasn't sure what she was supposed to do. Vincent wasn't staring; he was waiting. Waiting for Tifa to say something, _do_ something.

Eventually, Tifa blinked and realized who and what she was staring at, and embarrassedly lowered her head to face the floor in front of her.

"Sorry. You know… about… um, I didn't mean to…"

Vincent didn't move. He only blinked calmly at her. She was an interesting person; he'd give her that. As confusing as he found her to be, she fascinated him, and that didn't just involved the evening they had spent together. Since the first moment they had met, she had engaged his full attention, and he observed her as thoroughly as he could. He ran his fingers through his hair a few times, brushing it behind his ear and untangling it.

"You don't mind if I wash my clothes…"

Tifa looked up. Oh dear Bahamut, how long would that take? She mumbled where the washer was, and once he had left the room, she gave an exasperated sigh and fell back onto the couch again.

"Damn it Tifa, _grow up…_"

Vincent, who was fixing his slipping towel in the kitchen, stood and smirked at the scolding he heard.

* * *

**A/N**: Ahh... Could've been better? I'm working on the next chapter, but where should I go with this? Suggestions? Requests? Constructive criticism? Anything will help, I promise.


	2. ODM: Chapter 2

**A/N**: I like this chapter a lot. There's so much that happens in it, but it ignites a newfound relationship between the two. A bit of humor, a lot of surprises, and maybe a few cut-offs that will be explained or finished in further chapters. For now, try to enjoy this one.

* * *

Christmas carols were stuck in her head, the kitchen still smelled of burned meat, and the heater was broken, as was a window in the back of the condo.

Tifa was utterly pissed.

_Merry Christmas Tifa_, she thought bitterly as she used a knife to scrape the remaining meat crisps off the pan. Snow covered the bar, the roads, the whole damn planet, it seemed. Phone lines were down; she couldn't wish her beloveds a merry Christmas. The pipes were frozen, so showers or even face washing was out of the question.

A loud crack made her mind stop and her hands freeze. What the _hell_ was that?

She heard it again. And again. They started coming faster and louder, and Tifa dropped the pan she was holding, spinning around in time to see bark and leaves coming her way. She yelled out in panic and leapt to her right towards the doorway.

Along with her body crashing to the floor, she felt something fall on her leg. She cried out in pain, balling her hands into fists. She looked over her shoulder the best she could and saw that her kitchen was demolished. A tree – not too big, but none to small, either – laid in the kitchen and outside as well. Tifa scowled darkly at it; the one tree that had grown so much as a mile from the city had to grow right next to – and fall into – the bar. _Dammit_.

She struggled to get her leg free of the heavy branch that trapped it; the bark was digging into her skin and puncturing it. To top it off, since half the wall was gone, Tifa discovered it was still snowing outside.

Tifa continued to squirm and lift and pull and push, but with no avail. Exhausted, she finally slumped to the floor, breathing heavily. Blood now trickled down the sides of her leg; moving had only made matters worse as far as the branches went. Snow was beginning to pile up around the body of the tree. Tifa lay with her cheek touching the cold hardwood floor. Her hair was sprawled around her, and she was too tired to brush it from her face.

A knock on the door alerted her senses that someone was here, but her lack of strength was too overwhelming at the moment. It came again, and she snapped to.

"Come in!" Her spirit was lit with hope and thanks; she would _finally_ be free.

"The door is locked."

_Fuck_.

"Well, then, just…" Wait a minute… she knew that voice. Her mind was barely on track, but it was too familiar to ignore. Her insides were warm with optimism again. "Just come inside the wall!"

"Excuse me?"

"The kitchen wall… walk to it!"

Silence. She waited.

"…The one with the tree through it?" His voice was much closer now, clearer, and it dripped with playful sarcasm. Her eyes rolled, accessorized with just as playful a smile.

"No, the other one!"

She heard his footsteps now, and heard him climbing over the tree. He had to be able to see her now. She was right.

In less than two seconds, she felt the tree being lifted from her body, but her body being lifted as well. She blinked in amazement; how was he doing that? She blinked again, and she found herself being held in Vincent Valentine's arms. Of course, he knew not to touch her leg, for which she was very grateful, but he gave her a stern look.

"Of all days for you to be stuck under a tree…"

"Don't start with me."

He offered a crooked smile, and Tifa sighed, but smiled back.

"Thanks."

He nodded, then looked around. Tifa saw that he wasn't wearing his cloak, and narrowed her eyes. "Why aren't you covered up today? Are you insane?"

His head was turned, but his eyes met hers. "I believe you're referring to my cloak?"

Tifa nodded, and Vincent smirked. Blinking again, Tifa tilted her head. Vincent said nothing, and she shuddered from the cold, wrapping her cover around her tighter.

_Wait, what?_ Tifa looked at her own body. She was wrapped in Vincent's red, velvet cloak. Her lips parted in bafflement; when the _hell_ had he put this on her?

She looked up at him again, realizing that he had started walking towards the broken wall. She was confused, so she observed as he quickened his pace at the last second, then leapt up onto the tree, ducked under where the top of the gaping hole was, and jumped not down from the tree, but up onto the next building.

Tifa was too distracted by the amount of pain in her leg and the numbness on the rest of her body to comment on Vincent's defiance of gravity. She shuddered again, gritting her teeth.

Even as he moved, Vincent looked down at her, his expression concerned and uneasy. Never stopping, he managed to pull the cloak around her tighter, covered most of her face and, more importantly, her legs.

Tifa breathed a sigh as she felt a sudden, delightful wave of warmth fill her veins. It was gone too quickly, and she frowned at the bitter cold surrounding her again. She curled tightly into Vincent's chest, her head just barely touching Vincent's chin. He only smiled.

Even more suddenly than before, warmth found its way around and into her body again. Her eyes shot open and she looked around. She was still in Vincent's arms, but she was indoors now. She sniffed the air and grimaced; it smelled like rubber gloves and medicine. One explanation; he had taken her to the hospital.

She scowled and squirmed in Vincent's arms, pushing against his chest. Of course, the only thing she was pushing was Vincent's patience. He looked at her and lifted an eyebrow.

"It's either this or your bar."

Tifa rolled her eyes. "I can take my chances with a little injury like this. I've had much worse." He damn well knew it, too.

Vincent shook his head, but didn't get a chance to say anything. The woman behind the front desk lifted her head.

"What can we do for you?"

Tifa turned her head to look; the woman looked to be in her mid-forties. There was a youthful man sitting next to her, busily working on his computer. Vincent stepped forward, his attention not drifting from the woman in his arms.

"She has an injury on her leg. The blizzard's winds weakened a tree outside and it consequently fell through her wall." He paused. "She was lucky to have dodged it the way she did."

Tifa glowered. _Pfft… "lucky" he says…_

The woman nodded, tapping her bottom lip with her pen. The man stopped typing and found Tifa's gaze out of the corner of his eye. Her expression let him know that his computer monitor was probably a smarter choice to look at. He obliged.

"Well, we'll have her sent to a room immediately then." She picked up the phone on the desk, pressing a button. She waited, then smiled. "Yes, we have a young woman with a punctured leg. Yes sir. No, it's just the wound, though a tree caused it, so there may be some bark in it. Yes sir, someone brought her." She stopped, covering the speaking end of the phone with her hand. "Relatives or spouses?"

Tifa winced, but reached for her leg to indicate it was the throbbing pain in her leg. She could've sworn she saw Vincent smirk, but he smiled politely at the woman.

"Relatives."

The woman nodded and smiled, then continued to speak into the phone. When she finished, they had to wait no more than ten seconds until someone came through the glass doors to the left. Vincent gracefully placed Tifa on the gurney that was brought out, then turned back the desk. Out of instinct, Tifa lifted her arm and brushed her hand against his. He looked over his shoulder to see her pleading face. He blinked calmly.

"I'll be right here."

Tifa let herself be carried away, and she watched Vincent begin to fill out the paperwork on the desk.

* * *

"Is she asleep?"

"Yes. We gave her some of our good old-fashioned knock-out medicine," Tifa heard an unfamiliar voice speak with a chuckle. "We've removed all alien items from her leg, and we were able to stop the bleeding soon after. There's no infection, but we'll need you to make sure she takes these painkillers. I'm almost positive she'll feel something as soon as she wakes up." Distant footsteps told Tifa there was now only one other person in the room. She dared to open her eyes.

Vincent was leaning against the closed door, one hand holding the small bottle of her new medication, the other covering his eyes. She tilted her head, then lifted herself onto her elbows. The bed underneath her squeaked, and Vincent's head jerked up. Tifa caught his expression quickly; his eyes were filled with worry and distress. But in the next second, he was standing up straight, chuckling at her.

"Well, you came-to quicker than I thought you would."

"I'm stronger than you give me credit for," Tifa muttered. She saw his grip on the bottle tighten, and he frowned.

"You couldn't have taken care of that by yourself, Tifa. You needed professional medical help."

"So do you."

Vincent sighed, but he wasn't defeated. "You frightened me."

Tifa blinked. Well that was a surprise. "What?"

"You weren't moving when I saw you in the kitchen. There was more blood than there should be from the wound of the strongest woman I know."

Tifa only stared at Vincent. He wasn't looking at her, but there was something in his expression that made her unable to look away. She felt a pang of guilt hit her stomach.

"I'm sorry. I'm not used to being taken care of. You… you were just trying to help, and I was being a bitch about it."

The corners of Vincent's lips twitched, but he didn't move. "I wouldn't say that."

"Well I did. And I'm sorry it has to be true." She smiled. "You're something else, Vincent."

* * *

"Thank you for your help." Vincent spoke while shaking the doctor's hand. He smiled.

"Anytime, though I sincerely hope we won't have a repeat of this incident, Tifa." He winked at her, and Tifa couldn't help but smile.

"No promises."

Vincent took Tifa's medication from the counter and helped her out the door, walking along side her at her crutch-infected pace. Tifa had turned down the suggestion of taking them, but under Vincent's hard glare, how could she refuse?

As they came out the first glass door, Tifa looked outside; it had stopped snowing, but there was about twice as much as there had been before. Then something hit her.

"How are you getting me home?"

Vincent motioned outside, and she looked again; she saw his truck this time. She blinked, distinctly remembered being flown here instead. She looked at Vincent in disbelief.

"You left?"

Vincent pushed open the front door for her. "How else was I supposed to get you anywhere?"

Tifa pressed her lips together. They made their way to the truck, and he opened the door for her again, not only placing the crutches in the back of the truck for her, but also lifting her easily into the seat. Tifa blushed; she wasn't used to this kind of care and attention, much less from _Vincent_. He was such the gentleman.

He was soon in the driver's seat, and they were out of the parking lot in no time. Tifa sighed; thank _Bahamut_. She hated hospitals.

The truck was dead silent. Tifa felt relaxed; the freedom from the hospital, half the amount of pain in her leg, the warmth of the old truck, and the smell of Vincent Valentine surrounding her. She felt heat rise to her cheeks, but smiled anyway.

As he drove, Vincent never once took his eyes off the road, but he kept one hand on the wheel with his other on the back of Tifa's seat. Whenever she coughed roughly or shivered slightly, his hand would slide down from the seat, stroke the hair on the back of her head a few times, then find its way onto the seat again. Tifa didn't comment on this, but she found herself wanting to choke to death just to have him do it again every time.

They passed the entrance to the road that led to the bar. Tifa didn't notice at first, but she started realizing where they were exactly.

"Uh, Vincent?"

"Just trust me."

Tifa had no choice. She closed her eyes and leaned against the window, breathing in that beautiful, mind-boggling scent.

* * *

Tifa awoke from pleasant dreams and to satisfying warmth, along with two unmistakably amazing smells. One of them was coming from the soft, thick bed sheets around and above her; they smelled of _him_.

The other was coming from downstairs. Tifa breathed in and smiled, but never opened her eyes or moved from the bed.

Bed… yes, she was in her bed. She curled up on her side, still smiling into her pillow. Her dreams had been wonderful. They consisted of plights and a brave, handsome knight to banish her troubles away. It seemed silly – the dream had merely started in the local grocery store.

"Tifa? Are you awake?"

Tifa's eyes shot open. No dreams. No plights. But the handsome knight stood outside her door? She threw the covers off her body, leaping from the bed and rushing to the nearest source of clothes. She froze to discover that they weren't her clothes. She looked down to see that she was wearing the clothes from her dream. Or was it the day before today?

Holding her forehead with one hand, Tifa walked to the door and opened it. Her knight stood before her, and he looked up from the floor to meet the damsel in distress face to face. He quirked an eyebrow.

"Food, if you're hungry."

* * *

"You really don't have to do all this, Vince. It's not necessary." Tifa shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pulling her hair behind her ear and seeing a plate of steaming food being set in front of her. Vincent walked around to the other side of the table, sitting down as well.

Tifa eyed the food, then looked up at Vincent. He motioned for her to eat, and she slowly picked up her fork to do so. As the first bit of food entered her mouth, she closed her eyes for a moment and smiled; it had been so long since she'd eaten something so well prepared. Normally her meals consisted of frozen dinners and whatnot.

Vincent watched her carefully. She seemed to be in her own world now, and he found it hard to believe it had anything to do with his cooking.

"Did you sleep well?" He spoke quietly, never taking his eyes off her. While chewing, she nodded, her eyes meeting his. Once she swallowed, she smiled.

"I did, thanks." A thought suddenly popped into her head, and she immediately became uneasy. "That… that wasn't your bed I slept in, was it?"

Vincent tilted his head. "Whose else would it be?"

Tifa sighed and closed her eyes. "Vincent…"

"I don't want to hear it. You needed rest and a spot better than a sofa."

Tifa's eyes widened. "You slept on your couch because of me?"

Vincent shook his head. "Because of _me_. You were practically unconscious… I could have put you on the sofa if I wanted to," he said half jokingly. Tifa sat back with her hand covering her eyes.

"What a sight that must have been."

Vincent leaned over the table a little.

"You were no trouble to me yesterday, last night, or this morning. Tifa, I consider you to be a friend of mine, and no friend of mine sleeps on a couch while recovering from an injury at half an hour until midnight." He lifted his chin. "Understood?"

Tifa frowned; well when he put it like _that_…

She crossed her arms and closed her eyes again. "Merry Christmas, Tifa," she muttered. Vincent blinked, then smirked.

"That reminds me…"

Tifa's eyes shot open, but Vincent was already gone. _No. He… he didn't…_

She saw him return with something in his right hand, and she groaned to realize it was a box, neatly wrapped and small enough to fit in the palm of her hand. He placed it on the table in front of her, grabbing the plate and looking at her. She nodded for him to take it and stared at the box.

"You… got me something?"

"Yesterday was Christmas, was it not?"

"It was…"

"And as I just told you, you are a friend of mine, are you not?"

"I am…"

"So open it."

Tifa bit the side of her bottom lip, uncertainly reaching for the box. Flashing thoughts of Vincent shopping – something he'd only told her days ago that he disliked doing – late at night or early in the morning with only her in mind came running through her head, and it almost made her abstain from taking that little box. She figured it was smarter to oppose that hesitance.

She almost didn't want to unwrap it; it was so beautiful. The paper was light blue with glittered snowflakes, and there was a silver ribbon tied around it. Tifa was beginning to wonder how much effort he had actually put into wrapping this – if any at all; she was aware that most stores would wrap gifts for indolent shoppers. Or untalented ones.

For some reason, she was careful as she untied the ribbon, unaware that Vincent was now watching her. He leaned casually against the counter, patiently waiting for her to unwrap his gift.

She let the ribbon fall on the table, and she paused for a second before she began to work on the paper. To her relief, it came off quickly and easily – she caught a glance from Vincent, and she felt the need to speed things up a little.

The box itself was black, with some type of brand name written in gold across the top. Tifa hesitated once again, then lifted the top of the box. She dropped the lid of the box on the table, using that hand to cover her mouth.

She hadn't known what to expect; the fact that Vincent Valentine had gotten her anything was startling enough, but… _this_…

A necklace. A beautiful, silver, _perfect_ necklace. The silver was real, she could see that much. There were three hearts in the front, the two on the sides slightly smaller than that in the middle. In the actual chain part, every other space in the chain held a small, lovely and very real diamond.

Tifa was speechless, to say in the least.

"And don't you dare ask how much I spent," Vincent said. Tifa couldn't move. She only stared at the necklace. He watched her for a moment, then walked to her side, kneeling so that he was at her eye-level.

"Would you like me to put it on for you?"

Tifa blinked once, twice. She held the box in one hand, her mouth still covered with the other. She slowly nodded, then handed the box to Vincent, who was much more swift in his movements. He was able to put the necklace on her without her even moving her hair. She lifted her hand to her chest, placing her fingers gently over the hearts. Vincent came around to see his masterpiece, and nodded in approval.

"It suits you."

Tifa blushed and lowered her head, her hair falling over her shoulders, and her head now hiding the necklace. Vincent scowled and reached forward. He caught her chin and gently – but with irrefutable force – lifted her head up again. Their gazes met. Vincent waited to make sure he had her attention, then leaned in toward her again.

"Don't hide it," he muttered just loud enough for her to hear. Her expression was confused, and he continued. "You're a beautiful woman, Tifa. You act as if you're ashamed of that."

Tifa's lips parted. "N-no, I was just…"

Vincent shook his head. "I could picture you in this necklace the moment I saw it." He moved in again, his head advancing past hers. His lips found her ear, and he smiled as he whispered into it.

"It's perfect on you."

Tifa's heart skipped a beat. Before it had time to recover, Vincent was standing again in front of her. She kept her eyes on the floor, trying to remember how to breathe. Just as she thought she was sane again, her eyes widened.

"My… my bar! It's probably filled with snow! And that hole… rodents and bugs, and termites! I… I have to get there!"

"I've already made a call. Your bar is fine."

"B-but…"

"_Tifa_."

She looked up; that voice of his was too much for her to handle. She couldn't _not_ obey it. His expression was stern, firm, and very secure.

"Do you trust me?"

Tifa sighed; she should have seen that coming, but she was also disappointed. He already knew the answer to that question, but he was making her say it anyway. She wanted to roll her eyes, but held it back and nodded instead.

"You know I do."

Vincent was still, then he smiled gently. "Well then, now that we have that taken care of, why don't you accompany me in going out for the evening?"

Tifa blinked. "Evening?"

Vincent tilted his head. "Yes… it's around five. What time did you think it was?"

Tifa wanted to faint. She'd never slept in that long. There was never an issue or enough time, and she felt incredibly guilty for having done it. He must have checked on her at least three times last night. Well, morning, anyway.

Vincent held out his hand to her. "I insist."

She smiled, her fingers playing with her new jewelry accessory. _It was the least she could do_.

* * *

"Oh come on, Vincent. Challenge me a little." Tifa smirked. "Grasshopper."

Vincent chuckled. "Quite the expert, aren't you?"

"Who's the bartender here?"

"Right, well, that was the third, so it's my turn, I believe."

"Yes."

Tifa removed her blindfold and passed it to Vincent, who began tying it as Tifa quietly ordered three more drinks. The bartender seemed to be amused at their game – or perhaps he was thrilled at the amount of money he was making in his shift.

Vincent faced her in the stool, waiting for the first to be placed in his hand. Tifa chose one and gave it to him. He took a small sip, licking his lips after the glass left them.

"Red Snapper? You must be joking, Tifa."

She laughed. "All right, no making fun. And stop that! You won't be able to taste the others."

The blindfold hid Vincent's guilty look. He put down the now empty glass on the counter and awaited his second drink, which was soon handed to him. He sipped this one as well, and thought for a second.

"Cinnamon Sangria, correct?"

"Yeah, yeah. That one was too easy. Try this," Tifa mocked. Vincent felt the challenge in Tifa's voice and smirked something that said, 'bring it.'

When he tasted this one, he was relaxed immediately – this drink always seemed to do that trick for him – but he was surprised as well, taken aback by the fact that Tifa would dare him to name the drink. Still, this was a game, and if she wanted him to come out and play, he'd oblige, but with mind tricks of his own.

He set the glass down and pretended to ponder. He even went so far as rubbing his chin. Tifa stared in disbelief. She had only been kidding when she gave the idea it would be a hard drink, but honestly, she was astonished that Vincent couldn't name it. Still, maybe the ever-modest (or somewhat shy) Vincent Valentine had never tasted this drink. Maybe he wasn't naming it because he couldn't. Tifa waited impatiently, her smirk growing by the second.

He was certainly taking his sweet time, and Tifa had found the more comfortable position of leaning to her right a little, her arm resting on the counter. Finally, she saw him take the blindfold off, but he never looked at the drink. Instead, he looked at her, and she was amazed to see no ounce of perplexity in his expression. He was mocking her, too, and she narrowed her eyes, growling playfully.

"You…"

She didn't finish. Her lips came apart, her eyes widened, and her breath was taken away. Her heart fluttered and picked up on double time. Heat rose to her cheeks. She tried to take all this in, along with the fact that Vincent's lips were resting on hers.

He didn't move. Didn't budge. It hardly seemed he was breathing. She couldn't feel or think or move, so she finally relaxed and realized she liked it that way better anyway. She kissed him back, closing her eyes to think, and closing her lips over his to feel.

When they pulled apart, they looked at each other for the millionth time that day. Tifa, as always, couldn't find words or thoughts, so she sat there like an idiot, even though she wanted to say something. Scream something. Hell, anything instead of gaping at him.

On the other hand, she wasn't sure what to do. Out of all the surprises she'd gotten from him in only the past three days, this was the biggest.

He stared at her seriously, his eyes burning with sincerity. Tifa stared back, not sure whether she should feel flattered or uneasy. She took a small breath before asking a very serious question.

"You… you're not drunk, are you?"

Vincent blinked. Obviously, he hadn't been thinking of that. Of course he wasn't drunk; _the_ Vincent Valentine didn't get drunk. But of course, Tifa's days in a bar had let her see what most men were like when alcohol took over their systems. Still, Vincent was amused. So amused in fact, that he smiled. Then grinned. He chuckled, and opened his mouth to laugh. He laughed… he laughed brightly and genuinely, and he had to cover his mouth to stop.

Tifa couldn't help but smile; it was the most beautiful thing she'd ever heard, and she wanted to hear it over and over again. He sighed, a smile remaining on his face.

"No. No, I'm not." He gave a satirical look in her direction. "Advantages of many experiments… you know plenty about that. Yes, I drink as much as I want and could probably drive immediately afterwards."

Tifa smiled and rolled her eyes. "Right." She paused, then lowered her eyes. "So… what was that all about, then?"

Vincent looked at the ceiling. "You're going to make me say it, aren't you?"

Tifa's heart did a flip. "Say what?"

He smirked, closing his eyes. When he opened them, he was looking at her. He wrapped his fingers around her wrist, pulling her closer. He moved toward her again.

"_Sex on the Beach_."

* * *

Tifa was still in a daze from the earlier event in the evening, and the day was far from over. After Vincent's consistent mocking, they'd both decided to drop the subject. Of course, it hadn't been easy for Tifa; naturally she wanted to know exactly why he'd kissed her in the first place.

"Would you like to come in?"

"What, you haven't tired of me yet?"

Tifa raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Yeah, kind of. But you're my only customer in days, so just get in here."

Vincent chuckled and brushed the fresh snow off his shoulders before stepping inside. Tifa followed suit and went around the counter. She grabbed the bowl of cherries from the fridge – nothing like an evening snack like that – and froze.

It was… _warm_ in the kitchen.

She spun around to see that her wall was perfect. There was no tree in her kitchen. The countertop had no dents in it, no nature on it. The window was replaced and the floor was clean. Tifa nearly dropped the bowl in surprise.

"Are you all right, Tifa? Do you need help?"

"N-no… Vincent? Who exactly did you call?"

"Beg pardon?"

"My kitchen, dammit!"

"…Is it not to your liking?"

"No, no! It's _perfect_!" She exited the kitchen and placed the bowl on the counter in front of Vincent. He took a cherry and chewed on it, the stem hanging out of his mouth. He looked innocently at Tifa, who placed her hands on her hips and tried to be stern in order to get an answer out of him.

She ended up laughing instead. It was probably safe to say Vincent didn't let many people seem him the way he was now. He seemed so young…

Tifa wiped her eyes and smiled at Vincent. "So, who did you call?"

Vincent pulled the stem from his lips and placed it in the small glass container in front of him. He sighed and closed his eyes, linking his fingers together.

"Just… don't yell."

Tifa narrowed her eyes. "Why would I yell?"

"Tifa..."

She crossed her arms. "No promises, but go ahead."

Vincent cleared his throat.

"I called Reno."

Tifa blinked. Neither of them moved… both of them waiting for what would happen. Tifa brought her hands to her sides, closing her eyes and balling her hands into fists.

"Reno… was in my kitchen?"

"For a short period of time, yes. Did you not see what he did?"

She nearly started yelling. She would have, honestly, if Vincent hadn't been there. Then again, if he hadn't been there, she wouldn't have found out. If he hadn't been there, Reno never would have came.

She probably never would have made it to the hospital, either.

Tifa relaxed. "Fine. In that case, thank you." She smiled, opening her eyes. "I really do appreciate it. But… try to keep him out of my bar, okay? I don't want a repeat of last year's incident…"

Vincent quickly became interested. "Incident?"

"Yes," she sighed. She sat behind the counter, taking a cherry, but rolling it over all the others. "He's an idiotic, reckless, perverted, lying son-of-a-bitch."

Vincent's eyebrows shot up. She had more than sparked his interest now. "Idiot, check. Reckless, check. What brought on perverted and lying?"

Tifa rolled her eyes. "He's an obnoxious drunk, for one thing. I turn my back for one minute and he finds his way behind the counter. Apparently he's overly affectionate when he's drunk. He's lucky he wasn't the only one in the bar, or I would have knocked his teeth out right then and there."

Vincent watched Tifa's expression; he saw a flash of something big, something that wasn't supposed to be seen, but it was gone before he could study it. She continued.

"And he… kind of owes me money."

Raising an eyebrow, Vincent placed another cherry in his mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. He had to give it to Tifa; she had patience.

"For what does he owe you money?"

Vincent expected her to say a couple of beers, or even a night upstairs. The way she looked at him just now, however, told him something different completely. He saw it again; it was shame, guilt, and disgust. He dropped the cherry he was holding.

"Tell me I'm wrong."

Tifa bit her lip.

"_Tell me I'm wrong_."

"Probably not."

Vincent sighed and leaned back in his chair. Tifa couldn't take it.

"Don't give me that look! Do you even understand why I had to?"

"You didn't."

"Yes, I did! And that just proves that you don't understand! I told Cloud about it, and he didn't understand either!" She stopped, letting her shoulders drop. "And he's practically the cause of it."

Vincent cleared his throat. "Loneliness?"

Tifa hesitated, then nodded. Vincent shook his head.

"You realize that wasn't the solution."

"I _know_… I just… I couldn't help it. He was the only one around that I'd seen in a very long time."

"So was I, was I not?"

"Yes, but Reno's an idiot." She rubbed her eyes. "And so am I."

"No, you're not. You're a victim of seclusion, and I'm ashamed to say I'm a part of that outcome. AVALANCHE has failed to do much of anything as a whole lately, so I can understand how that part couldn't work out. As for Cloud and the children leaving, I can only imagine what a blow to the head that must have been. They're your life, and they were suddenly gone, all at once." He leaned forward and took one of her hands. "But what you did was not the answer, Tifa. It was the opposite. You took what you were craving for so long, but you lost it again, and it doubled your isolation. None of that could have been easy, but I will tell you this, Tifa Lockhart…"

Tifa looked up at Vincent, who smiled wickedly.

"You will get your money."

* * *

They were in the truck again. Tifa curled into a comfortable ball in the passenger's seat. Vincent held his phone to his ear, hardly worrying about the road in front of him.

Tifa had no doubt in her mind that she would be paid. Back at the bar, she had insisted that Vincent forget the subject was ever brought up and they both move on without Reno in their lives. But Vincent would have none of it.

"Besides," he had teased, "you probably deserve it, right?"

He'd left her standing behind the bar, humiliated and mortified.

But now she was forgetting it all. Everything around her was being pulled into a vortex of unimportance; all she cared about now was listening to his melodic voice and inhaling that enchanting scent – again, Vincent's cloak was used as her blanket.

"Ah, Reno, sorry to bother you so late." Tifa sneered; he didn't sound sorry at all. Vincent continued, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind doing another favor." He paused, his lips slightly apart. Tifa watched his blue-tinted face. His expression turned to disgust. "I wonder how you speak to your boss, Reno."

Tifa blinked in surprise. Vincent's voice had turned harsh, almost spiteful. His expression became calm again. "Meet me in Rufus's spare building." Another pause. "_Yes_, that one." He closed the phone and pocketed it. Tifa wrapped her cover around her arms tightly, closing her eyes. She felt like a child, but she found she was comfortable in her weaker state around Vincent. He was going to make her feel inferior regardless, so relaxing completely was best for her anyway.

"He's drunk."

Tifa sighed into the velvet fabric. "He's willing to spend more money without my discount just to get himself wasted."

"It would seem so."

Tifa nodded lightly and leaned her head against the window. Her breathing was relaxed and sound. Vincent glanced at her quickly before watching the road again.

He was still wondering what would happen after the day's excitement would finally end. The kiss he'd stolen from Tifa had probably shocked him more than it had her. He certainly had not been drunk at all, and he was very much in his right mind.

Well, maybe not so much. Before he had done it, all he could think was that it was the perfect time, the perfect woman. But when it happened, he couldn't think at all. When he felt those incredibly soft lips, his insides ached with so much emotion he could hardly stand it.

He didn't know what he was going to do now. It was the first time in many years he'd spent so much time with a woman at once, and it made him uncomfortable that he was suddenly being so intimate and forward with her.

_He'd never done that with…_

He reached the lodge, pulling into the driveway next to it. Once the keys were out of the ignition, he sighed, leaning back in the seat. Tifa was asleep now, and he looked from her to the front door.

He'd make it quick.

* * *

"Tifa, wake up."

Tifa's eyes fluttered open to the world's most beautiful face. She gave a startled moan, sitting up in the car's seat.

"Where are we?"

"You're in your driveway. You've been sleeping for about half an hour. I assume you'd like to go to bed?"

Tifa's head jerked in his direction. "I thought we were going to –"

"We did."

Silence. Tifa scratched behind her ear.

"Oh…"

"Indeed." He smiled sardonically. "Out of my truck then?"

Tifa obliged. He held her crutches for her, and when she was ready, he placed them under her arms. He walked along side her all the way to the front door, and held it open for her. She went inside, and he leaned in the doorway, the back of his shoulder keeping the door slightly open.

"So, you're fine on your own, then?"

Tifa turned as quickly as she could with her crutches. "You're… leaving?"

"I'm going home." He tilted his head. "Unless you covet my company…?"

Tifa blushed. She wished he hadn't put it like that, but the truth was she really did. She'd been with him for four days now, and she was used to his presence. Still, he had a life, and she was hardly the person to keep him from it. As discomforting as it was, she gave a sad smile and shook her head.

"No, don't wait on me. I'll be fine, really. I promise."

Vincent was nowhere near convinced, but he could tell she was decisive on making the day less awkward. His absence would probably be a little painful – especially after his idiotic decision in the other bar – but it wasn't like they lived together.

Even though he had a feeling she was getting there. She wanted to be with him now, and he could tell. She wasn't hopeless whatsoever on crutches around the bar and house, but he was afraid something similar to what happened with Reno would happen again.

Loneliness. His appearance. Loneliness again.

It couldn't be good. He'd definitely have to check up on her again. He'd wait a day or so, then return. It couldn't hurt too badly.

Tifa was waiting for his reply, so he nodded gravely. "Very well. Call me if you need anything."

He turned gracefully and began walking through the thin snow to his truck. Tifa's eyes followed him, and her vision became blurry.

_What the hell!_ Tifa growled at herself and shook her head. Her tears flew in several directions. _He lives close by! You'll see him again, now that he knows you're here!_

But as Tifa watched him near his truck, she realized her abrupt despair had nothing to do with the fact that he was leaving. Before, when she'd spent a night with the insufferable redhead, there was action, yes. There was lust.

Earlier today… there was something else. It wasn't love. Not quite, anyway. But she was tenderly curious about him, or maybe it was further than that yet. In a way, she admired him. It was something she'd been longing for, that moment in the bar, and now she was sure it was leaving her forever, even though it lived right down the road.

"V-Vincent! Wait!"

She couldn't give more than a damn about her leg; it was perfectly fine, as long as she could still run on it. The wrap was just loose enough for her to run without her leg feeling too rapt.

He was at his door now, opening it. Her feet in the snow made hardly any noise, at the speed she was running.

But he knew she was there. He turned, and at the perfect second too, for he was able to catch a jumping Tifa in his arms, catching her lips with his. He held her close to him, his arms wrapped possessively around her body. She latched to his neck with her own arms.

All doubt that had somehow found its way into their minds was washed away in seconds. The moment was so cliché and, moreover, it was unexpected, but yes… this was what was right. It was right for both of them.

* * *

**A/N**: Aw. The romance. =)  
Hopefully the title of the story is coming into view by now.

Don't be too surprised at the events in the next chapter. _Something_ exciting has to happen, right?


	3. ODM: Chapter 3

**A/N**: This chapter is actually much shorter than the previous two. I apologize, but this was a tough chapter to write. I'm not getting much feedback from readers, and it's hard to create my own motivation. Nevertheless, it's an important chapter. I shall be working on the next one very soon - maybe tonight. In the meantime, read and enjoy.

* * *

The telephone's ringing woke Tifa. Initially she ignored it. She was tired, dammit. She'd sleep if she wanted to.

Her eyes shot open then. _The phone is ringing!_

The covers flew across the room, it seemed. But not quite enough, for she stumbled and nearly fell to the floor before rushing out the door and down the hallway. The throbbing in her leg only started until she'd reached the next doorway. _Why the hell don't I have a phone in my room?_

Catching her breath, she picked up the phone and coughed before she spoke. "Yes?"

"My, my. You must be incredibly tired if you've been sleeping this late."

Tifa grinned into the phone. "I could have just been busy, you know."

"I've been calling for the past two hours."

Tifa said nothing.

"That's what I thought." She heard the mischievous simper in his voice. "I apologize for keeping you up so late last night, but I suppose it couldn't be helped."

Tifa laughed brightly. "Shut up. You stayed for another half hour; that hardly counts as late. I normally close another half hour after you left."

She heard him chuckle, and inwardly sighed. Their discussion last night had been deeper than any they'd had this past week. Decisions, confessions… and it was all perfect. Tifa only wished it could have lasted forever; while they had talked, he'd held her hands in his. As she thought about it, the feel of his soft fingers holding her palms recurred, and she shivered.

"Tifa?"

"Oh! Sorry, my mind was off track. Did you say something?"

"No. I was listening to you breathe."

Tifa's mouth opened to say something, but nothing came out. It would seem abnormal in most circumstances, but for some strange reason, Tifa found it exceptional, and the way he'd said it made it seem impractical for most other men. She smiled gently.

"Why?"

"It was… amusing."

Tifa blinked, then laughed. "You jerk!"

"What? It seemed like you were starting to… breathe abnormally." He stopped. "Do we need to take another trip to the hospital of hell?"

"You wouldn't dare."

"Thought not. Now, may I ask the question I was prepared to ask before you began hyperventilating?"

"Vincent…"

"Please. May I accompany you today? There's still more I think we need to discuss."

Tifa's heart jumped. She wanted nothing more than to spend more time with him, but with the impish character he put her in, she was feeling more playful today than usual.

"Sure, but only if you win."

"Beg pardon?"

"If you win my game, we'll talk."

"…What game are we speaking of, now?"

"_My_ game." She smirked, somewhat proud of herself. She had never been very good at playing hard-to-get, but now that she was trying, it was more fun than she'd imagined. "When I hang up, there's no telling where I'll be. I won't use any transportation other than my feet. And before you comment, you smart-ass, my leg is feeling fine. So don't underestimate my speed. I can hide if I want, I can sabotage if I want. But if you can catch me, you get your way immediately. We'll go wherever you want, talk about whatever you want, and do whatever you want. Easy enough?"

"Very."

She grinned again. "If you say so."

She hung up.

* * *

Dressing was easy, and there was no need – or time – for food. For all she knew, he could have started coming in her direction while talking on his cell. Instead of using the front door, she used the window to her room and jumped from it. It was where the tree used to be, but there was a fence next to it that ended higher above her window, and she jumped to it. It wasn't safe enough to be on the ground yet, so she found her way up to the roof on the next building.

She could jump roofs too, but she wouldn't be nearly as graceful or fast as he was. Her main method would have to be evasion. Impairing his approach would be more difficult, but doable.

As she jumped, she smiled genuinely. She was thrilled he was playing along with her game, and she wondered exactly what would happen when he caught her. She knew he would. He would probably be smart enough to take her by surprise, too.

She ran to the tallest building, leapt to the top of it, and jumped from there to the surrounding balcony with the chained fence around it. Grabbing the top of the fence, she swung up and over it, landing in a cat-like way. She stood, looking around. He had to know she'd be here… where was he?

No less than two hours went by as she circled the small town's area. The people below were calm. No one was running. No one looked up at her. She was bemused by the idea that Vincent wasn't even trying. Then again, it wouldn't surprise her much if he weren't.

Another hour went by, and by now Tifa was lying against the fence, arms crossed and lips twisted. She desperately wanted to call him, but abstained from doing it. But after each hour that passed, her hesitance grew weaker.

Finally, only two hours before nightfall, she sighed irritably and stood, stretching. She couldn't believe she had actually waited this long. _Ridiculous…_

She took a single step and froze, feeling an arm slide around her shoulders, holding her by her neck. Another hand was placed on her hip. The grip was secure, but very, very gentle. His warm breath soothed the chilled skin on her neck. His hair and hers was caught in the breeze, but nothing else moved – until he smiled against her ear.

"_I win_."

Her eyes moved toward his direction, and she smiled too. "I guess you do."

"That's what you get for letting your guard down for six hours."

Tifa scoffed, turning in his hold to look him in the eye. "Six hours earlier would have been a nice time to catch me, too."

"But then I wouldn't have been able to watch you for so long."

She looked at him, and he was gazing at her with utmost sincerity. The dazzling vivacity behind his eyes was killing her. It made him more beautiful than he came off as, and it excited her, but consoled her at the same time. She moved forward, leaning against him and placing her head on his chest. He embraced her at once, resting his head atop her head.

Something was bothering Tifa in this perfect moment, and she didn't want to ruin it, but it was necessary to bring it up.

"Vince…?"

"Yes."

"What started this?"

Vincent held her tighter, almost afraid to let go. "It's… hard to explain."

"I'm sure I can keep up."

Vincent smirked. Stubborn woman she was, he couldn't resist keeping it from her. "You previously had feelings for Cloud, yes?"

Tifa froze. Cloud… in the past few days, she had actually managed to stop thinking about him, but she wasn't sure whether she should be happy about that or not. She bit her bottom lip and buried her head into Vincent's neck.

"I think so."

Vincent sighed into her hair. "Do you remember how strongly you felt about him?"

"Yes, I think so."

"Do you remember how he ignored that?"

Tifa took a longer time answering this question, but repeated, "I… think so." Even though that was what she was sure about the most. His breath moved her dark strands gently.

"I was always so confused. I observed the way he disregarded your emotions and envied him."

Tifa confusedly tilted her head up. "You envied him because of that?"

Vincent closed his eyes and nodded. "Because he could do it so easily. Because he was able to defy everything about you that would make any normal man fall out of his mind." He kissed her head softly. "Which is exactly what you've done to me."

She gave a light, careful laugh. "Sorry about that."

Vincent smiled. "Please. It's nothing to apologize for."

* * *

"So, seeing as you waited until nightfall to finished our game," Tifa accused teasingly, squeezing the cold, pale hand she held, "how exactly do you plan to spend the last five hours of the day?"

Vincent only kept looking forward, but there was a spark in his eyes that let Tifa know he was all for games today.

"Something… exciting. Thrilling, even."

Tifa cocked an eyebrow. "You haven't had enough excitement for this week yet?"

Vincent chuckled and lowered his head. "Not by a long shot." His eyes shot to hers. "Miss Lockhart."

She kept her gaze forward but smiled to herself. He was much more playful than she'd ever imagined, and she liked the way he tested her limits. It made her feel as if he was really concentrating… like she was his biggest focus.

"Well then? What did you have in mind?"

Vincent was silent for a moment. "Why don't we go dancing?"

Tifa stopped immediately, subconsciously pulling Vincent back by the hand she continued to hold. He wanted to dance with her? Of all things…

She bit her lip and smiled. "I'm not a very good dancer."

Vincent shot a sarcastic look at her impractical attitude. He held her waist and pulled her into him, sliding his cheek against hers and back.

"Miss Lockhart, you have no idea how hard I find that to believe."

* * *

In all honesty, Tifa was a very good dancer. The problem was that she didn't like to. She didn't like being stared at by hungry pursuers in the clubs she used to go to. But now, as she entered the only one in Midgar, she held Vincent's arm tightly and didn't care how long she stayed.

Vincent first suggested she find them a table to sit at for a while so he could get them something to drink. Tifa agreed, but there weren't many empty ones. She finally spotted one close to the restrooms in the corner of the room, and she quickly went to it. She knew Vincent would be able to find her no problem.

As she sat there alone, she looked around the large, dark room. People everywhere were dancing, and she was surprised at how crowded it was given the amount of people that were actually sitting down. She also noticed how she'd caught the eyes of several large, burly men that refused to dance themselves. She began to wonder exactly what would happen if she tried herself…

She left her jacket and shoulder bag in the seat – Vincent would know to spot them – and she made her way to the dance floor. The bass was clear and loud in the room, and she felt the beat in her chest. She began to sway her hips to the music, to the tempo. At first, she only watched those sitting close to her, and noticed how their eyes never left her.

After she realized they weren't going to look away, she focused on the music and was unaware of the man walking up behind her. Just as he placed a hand on her arm to ask her to dance, as she stopped dancing, and as she turned to face him, Vincent gently took her hand from her other side, gazing authentically into her eyes and intensely into his.

"My apologies. I was hoping I could snatch a dance from her…?"

Tifa noticed a difference in Vincent's voice. It was quieter, but no less intimidating than it had ever been. The other man lowered his arm hesitantly. Tifa studied this man's face; it outstood from the other men's in the room. He was actually quite handsome. His facial bone structures were near perfect, and his hair was a light gold, his eyes blue to match.

However, she stepped in Vincent's direction, squeezing his hand in turn and smiling apologetically at the blonde. The man said nothing, only walked away with a disgruntled expression and one clenched fist.

Tifa turned to Vincent with an eyebrow raised. "Snatch a dance from me?"

Vincent smirked. "It is why we came here, correct?"

She rolled her eyes. "Well yeah, but you didn't have to be so rude."

"I prefer not to give up my dates so easily."

_Date_. The word made her skin tingle and her insides play on an imaginary moonwalk. She kept her face sturdy, though, and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I choose who I dance with, Mr. Valentine."

Vincent dropped her hand then, and she looked at it in surprise. She looked at his face again, and his exterior had changed to a very serious expression.

"Then tell me who you choose to dance with, and it will happen."

Tifa smiled only slightly and took both of his hands, placing them on her hips. She leaned into him, cupping his face with a hand and murmuring into his ear, "You're my only choice, Vincent."

She kissed him sweetly and lightly, forgetting where she was and who was watching. He kissed back, of course, but pulled her closer and actually smiled. He _smiled_, and it was because of her. Her lips curved up against his, and she wrapped her arms around his neck.

When their eyes met again, she sighed. He was perfect enough for it to be illegal. She stroked at his hair as she watched his magnificent eyes.

"So, shall we dance, then?"

* * *

A beautiful little rave girl, that's what she was. Vincent felt luckier than anyone could ever be. Tifa was a fantastic dancer, despite her comments, and each time she apologized for slowing down or missing a beat, he only shook his head and gripped her waist tighter. Her back rubbed against his chest, their hips moved together, creating their own dance. Soon the music was nonexistent to both of them, and the feeling of such close contact created unbelievable elation.

Tifa soon found that Vincent dancing skills were marvelous, and very intimate. At first, she'd really been the only one dancing, but Vincent picked up the rhythm with her and their bodies moved and swayed as one.

Now, it was very, very late. The dance floor was more crowded; this seemed to be the after-work place to go, especially at one in the morning. People surrounded the couple, and it appeared that they would have to fight their way out. But that wasn't the case at the moment. They were nowhere near done.

They'd only taken two breaks in the four hours they'd been dancing. For every ounce of exhaustion Tifa felt she should be feeling, instead it was replaced by excitement and pleasure. She turned to face Vincent and put her wrists behind his neck. Vincent couldn't handle the space between them, apparently. He pulled her body into his, and neither of them stopped dancing.

Tifa buried her face in Vincent's neck, and for this he was grateful. He was blushing, and she couldn't see him. About three hours and fifty-nine minutes ago, their dancing had begun to… excite him. Either she was completely unaware or she knew and had decided to go along with it. Was he making her uncomfortable, and she was just being polite? God only knew how _she_ was reacting to their intimacy.

She surprised him by lowering her hands to his waist. He adjusted their arms so it felt comfortable for both of them, but froze dead when she closed her lips down on his neck, breathing sharply when she nipped at it.

When he didn't react, Tifa panicked. Had she gone too far? Yes, that must be it. _Oh, what an idiot you are_, Tifa frantically scolded herself, trying to think of an explanation to give to Vincent when he finally spoke.

Vincent's hands were trembling. Oh _God_ how he wanted to feel that again. His neck was cool from where she'd warmed it, the air around now soothing the bite marks. The chills sent down his spine made his skin tingle with delight.

He pulled her away from him by her shoulders, holding her in front of him and studying her face. It was directed away from him, so he took her chin and had her face him. He looked in her eyes for emotions, feelings, anything. Then he moved in and kissed her deeply, differently… almost lustfully.

Tifa noticed the change and couldn't say she didn't enjoy it. She gave a throaty moan into the man's mouth, sliding her tongue into Vincent's moist opening. He returned the gesture, and their tongues tied and wrapped, pushing against the other and licking at the inside of the other's home.

She grasped his waist tighter, tilting her head opposite of his. His fingers were wrapped in her hair, and yet he didn't feel in control. They shared dominance, allowing the other to do whatever they pleased.

And then her hand slid down between his legs, and when she gripped and pulled back up in place, he broke free of the kiss to give a moan of unbearable pleasure. The music coming from above them drowned out the sound, but Tifa heard it, and she wanted to hear it again. She stroked the area she held, leaning forward and nibbling at his neck again. Vincent gasped and closed his eyes, unable to breathe. He couldn't believe what she was doing to him.

Suddenly it was gone. She'd stopped, and they were silent in the enclosed land of noise. They stared at each other, horrified yet rapturous, cautious yet daring. Finally, Vincent reached up and gracefully tucked Tifa's dark locks behind her ear. It was an odd gesture after the previous moment, but it was all he could think of. Besides, it was blocking his view of the most brilliant beauty he'd come to know.

Tifa managed to reach up and grab his hand before it fell to his side. She placed it on the side of her face and leaned into it, closing her eyes. It calmed her, and she realized that she wanted him. She'd never wanted anything more in her life, and after so long of not knowing, realization was a blow to her gut.

She loved him.

* * *

**A/N**: So following that up won't be too difficult. It's a matter of how, precisely, I am going to do it. But I'll try, I promise. I hope the lack of words in this chapter didn't disappoint, but it won't happen again. Christmas break has already started, so my time has expanded. It's the ideas I lack. Still, I'll work on it.


End file.
